Goodnight
by PrincessTverski
Summary: Cullen and the Inquisitor fight side by side in battle, and face the aftermath. CullenxF!Trevelyan. One-shot.


Cullen x F!Trevelyan one-shot. In a different verse than all my other Cullen stories. My brain won't shut up about this, so here you go.

Rate M for graphic violence.

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Mud sucked at her boots as she slogged through the gore ofthe battle field. A high wind whipped her hair about her face and not for the first time Elena wished she had the good sense to cut it short like Cassandra. Storm clouds massed and menaced on the horizon, but they had already come and gone; only a truly demonic wind would send them back this way. The battle had been hard fought and hard won, but they had won, mercifully without many casualties. Across the plain she could just make out Commander Cullen and his higher ranking officers. A smile sprang unbidden to her lips as she watched him.

They had quarreled before the battle, about what, she couldn't quite recall. Something stupid, perhaps, trivial. A lovers' quarrel, Dorian might tease. He wouldn't be far from the truth of it, though she had only shared Cullen's bed a few times—it was all painfully, thrillingly new. But there would be time for more—more exploration, more of _him_—when this mess was sorted out. They would have their entire lives.

As if he could feel her gaze on him, Cullen looked up and raised a hand in greeting. She waved back, before turning behind her, to see where the others were.

Bright green light streaked across her vision as the sky split above her head. Elena stumbled, hands flying to the daggers mounted on her back as a pride demon stepped out of the rift, its deep, cruel chuckle reverberating through the air.

Where were her companions? Heart pounding, she cast her gaze around for Cassandra, Bull, or Dorian but they were nowhere to be seen. She raised her hand, the Mark throbbing painfully at the closeness of the Fade, and began draining the demon's strength with a nebulous green cloud above his head.

Daggers out, she attacked. Lightening fast and spinning like a hurricane. A slash of silver against the grey sky. She waived her hand again, trying to drain the rift above her and banish the demon back to the Fade. Cut left. Dodge right. Pommel strike to the back of the knee. It was almost dead, almost banished. She raised both arms, ready to end it, when a massive fist crashed into her, sending her flying into the mud. The shock of the ground smacking into Elena's head made the stars spin in the sky. Her daggers, where were her daggers? Her hands grasped painfully at the empty air.

The demon laughed again, and raised its fist.

"NO!" a roar exploded to her left as a streak of gold and brown dodged in front of her.

Cullen ran, hurling his sword through the air, as he raised his shield above them both. The blade flew, arching through the sky. Lodging into the beast's eye, but not before it landed its fist, heavy and hard, on top of Cullen's shield. Elena raised her Mark, sealing the rift and banishing the demon's carcass before it could topple over both of them.

She turned, ready to run to her lover's arms, but stopped short. Her heart leapt to her throat and her skin suddenly felt freezing cold.

Cullen lay on the ground before her, blood spilling from his stomach. His hands shook as he tried to staunch the blood; his skin rapidly becoming more pallid. His crumpled shield lay discarded to the side, the lower edge caked in blood. Elena ran to him, dropping to her knees at his side.

"Shhh, it's okay, I'm here. It's going to be okay," she didn't know what she was saying, only that she had to say it.

Shaking, she ripped her coat off of her shoulder and pressed it over his stomach. Cullen groaned and his eyes rolled back in his head for a moment, the shock of her touch almost too hard in her haste to keep him from bleeding out.

"Cullen, no! Stay with me. Dorian and Solas will be here in a moment. It's going to be okay."

The ground beneath them was warm and sticky with blood. Elena looked up, desperate to see her friends, but the plains seemed empty, devoid of life besides the two of them. She shifted, so that his head rested in her lap. Water fell on his face and it took a moment for her to realize it was her own tears and not rain.

Stroking his hair with her free hand she murmured a swan song to him, "Cullen. You're going to be okay. You're going to be healed and we'll spend our lives together. We'll grow old together. I love you so much, Cullen. You're the best person…the best thing in my life. Before you, I never felt loved, or wanted…I can't…please try, please. Blood and damnation, where is the healer?!"

Her words slurred and sputtered, as sobs wracked her body. Slowly, he raised his arm, brining it towards her cheek. Elena leaned forward into his gentle touch, gripping his hand as he cupped her face. Her vision blurred for a moment as more tears fell against his cooling skin.

"Hush, sweetheart," his voice was almost too soft for her to hear. "None of that. Maker…Maker, you're so beautiful…I'm so blessed to call you…mine."

Each word was more of a struggle than the last, it seemed, and Elena leaned forward, protective, shielding him with her body.

"It's going to be okay," Cullen took a sharp, pained breath and blood appeared on the edges of his white lips. "Elena look at me. I want…I need…you to be happy."

"Cullen—" she started.

"I love you," his thumb brushed across her cheek, catching her tears. "I'm not afraid. I know…"

But words failed him and soon his hand became heavy and loose in her grasp. She let it go, and it fell to the earth like a stone. She watched in horror as the luster faded from his golden eyes and they slowly stopped seeing her. Elena clutched him tighter, willing him to stay with her. Raising her head to the heavens she screamed. The sound was inhuman, a high keening wail that tore her throat raw and left her hollow.

She stood in the Chantry back at Skyhold, lighting the candle before her. In the golden flames she could see his eyes again, and the whispering wind through the still drafty walls almost sounded like his voice. Her other hand rubbed slow circles on the round curve of her stomach, where his child kicked restlessly.

Her throat ached from screaming, yet another strangled sob ripped out of her mouth and into the silence of her chambers. Elena's eyes flew open, wide as her still screaming mouth, sucking in great heaving breaths as she struggled to untangle herself from the sweat slick sheets around her legs. Her heart pounded in her chest so hard she thought her ribs might break. She clawed at her face, her hair, sharp pains to ground her in reality. Her hand flew to her still flat stomach.

A dream. It was all a dream.

Cullen.

She jolted out of bed, tripping over the sheets and falling onto her hands and knees. The stone floors stung against her palms and shins, but she hardly noticed. Elena scrambled up and flew down the stairs, not caring that she was only clad in a large tunic and her smallclothes. Her bare feet slapped against the flagstone of the great hall, echoing loud enough to wake the dead.

They _had_ fought. Her terrorize brain could not for the life of her recall about what. Nor did she care, not as long as he was still…Maker, why was his tower so far away? Why had he decided to spend the night working instead of next to her?

She raced through Solas' office, barely registering the elf's attempts at greeting her, and wretched the bridge door open. She flew, as if her feet were winged like in the ancient tales; Elena was pulling his office door open before she could register the icy mountain air against her flesh. She stood in the golden light of Cullen's office, rooted to the spot as she took in the image of him, alive and whole.

The Commander sat at his desk, bent over a report no doubt. He jerked his head up at her startling entrance. For a moment they just stared at each other—him taking in her wild, frenzied appearance, the red scratches on her legs from where she had fallen.

"Elena?"

"_Cullen_," it was more of a sob than a word.

At once he stood, half running around the desk towards her. She flew to him, throwing her arms around his neck and burying her face in his chest—mercifully he had forgone his armor this evening and was in just his cloak and tunic. Cullen stumbled back, not anticipating the full force of her, and settled against his desk before drawing her to him. One arm around her waist, the other cradling her head, fingers tangled in her auburn locks. He opened his legs, pulling her as close as possible. His stubble scratched against her temple.

"Hey, what's this now?" he murmured, stroking her hair as she sobbed uncontrollably into his shoulder.

She gasped and let out a shuddering breath, a hiccup escaping in the process.

"You were _dead_. I watch you die…I held you…I watch the light go out of your eyes—oh _Cullen_." Elena sagged against him utterly emotionally spent. "And then I was _hic_ alone…and with child…_hic_and…"

"A dream?"

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak again. They stayed like that for a long moment, Cullen gently rocking them and stoking her hair. He made soft, shushing noises as she tried to calm the anguish inside of her, to settle her sobs. Slowly, her breath returned to normal and she quieted in his arms.

"I'm right here, love. I'm not leaving you any time soon, I promise," he whispered into the crown of her head.

Elena raised her face, not a little embarrassed at what a fright she must look. Wiping her eyes on the back of her palm she smiled shyly.

"I'm sorry I—"

Before she could finish her apology, he cut her off, pressing his mouth against hers. A slow gentle glide of lips against each other, his hands came to cradle her face, thumbs caressing away her tears. He pulled away, resting his forehead against her own.

"Don't ever apologize for needing me, Elena. I'm always here for you," he murmured, kissing the tip of her nose.

She sighed, the warmth of his embrace washing over her. She was safe, _he _was safe.

"I love you, Cullen."

"I love you too, sweetheart."

Elena felt drained, beaten, like she had just returned from slaying dragons. Her limbs felt heavy and wooden. Her legs wobbled as she tried to stand, but Cullen held her tighter.

"I think it's time for us to sleep," he said, running a strong hand down her thighs to lift her legs.

Obediently she wrapped them around his waist. She was too tired to protest being carried like a child. And instead, locked her arms securely around his neck. One hand holding her bottom, Cullen climbed the ladder to his loft. Laying her down gently on his bed, he brushed kisses across the fingers of both hands before stepping away to disrobe. Elena lay back against his pillows and stared up at the stars above her, grounding herself in reality. The smell of him surrounded her, grounded her. Cullen was here, alive, and with her. She began to relax, her eyes heavy.

The mattress dipped as he slid into bed next to her. Strong arms locked around her, pulling her back into his chest and she sighed in contentment.

"You were with child in your dream?" He asked, running one large hand down to span across her belly.

"Mm? Yes," she murmured sleepily. "A boy, I think."

"I would be very sad to miss that." Cullen pressed a kiss to her forehead, "Goodnight sweetheart."

"Goodnight, Cullen."

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